Anthology - Kick Ass

by Maggie Shayne, MaryJanice Davidson, Angela Knight, Jacey Ford

  As they turned down the hallway leading to her room, Jake seemed as though he were about to say something, but he stopped abruptly when two men stepped out from behind an enormous potted plant. Jake hurriedly stepped backward, but stopped again when two more men came up behind him.

  Just in case anyone was wondering, four-to-two odds in the real world—especially when neither of the two were armed and one of the two had his hands full of the other one—weren't good. Yeah, in the movies, James Bond would whistle, and his high-tech car would come roaring out of nowhere to save him, or he'd push a button on his watch, and his attackers would all fall to the ground in agony. But if Jake were to push a button on his watch, all that would happen is his stopwatch would start. And Lauren wasn't even wearing a watch—just a skimpy metallic-looking bikini and a whole lot of sand.

  "Shit," Jake said as one of the guys stuck something that felt suspiciously like the barrel of a gun in his kidneys.

  "Welcome to Isla Suspiro, Mr. Haven," the man holding the gun said pleasantly.

  "Please come with us," the thug ahead of him and to his right said.

  "And if you make any noise, we'll kill you both right here," another man added.

  Jake looked down at Lauren, then back up at the men. "Okay," he said. "Just let me get rid of the girl."

  "I don't think so," the guy on his right said, eyeing Lauren appreciatively.

  This was not good at all. A barely clothed Lauren Devlin was making Jake's palms itch. He could only imagine what these goons had in mind.

  "She stays here. She's got nothing to do with whatever it is you boys want from me," he said firmly, unconsciously tightening his hold on her.

  Unfortunately, they didn't buy his argument. Instead, the thug with the gun moved the barrel up so that it was resting just below Jake's elbow, right against Lauren's side. A point-blank shot there would puncture her lung and go straight through her heart and keep on going. She'd die right here in his arms, with no chance that he could get help in time to save her.

  "All right. Let's go, then," he said, slowly turning around to follow their lead. He braved a quick glance at Lauren, who had remained silent during the entire exchange and who was now looking up at him with more than a hint of fear in her heart-stoppingly gorgeous blue eyes. "Sorry," he mouthed, wishing the apology didn't sound so lame.

  Her eyes narrowed ferociously for a split second, and then the wide-eyed fear was back so quickly that Jake thought that maybe he'd just imagined it. That is, until she curled one hand around his neck, leaned so close he felt a lock of her dark brown hair tickling his chin, and whispered, "This is perfect. They're going to take us right into the rebel camp."

  Jake sighed and started walking. He had a feeling this weekend wasn't going to turn out at all like he'd planned.

  * * *

  CH@%!*R 3

  By the time they reached camp, Lauren had managed to make the rebels wish they'd left her back at the resort. She'd pretended to be frightened about everything from the wild parrots that screeched overhead to an imagined spider that she insisted had dropped into their jeep when they'd stopped for her to relieve herself. She forced them to give her her beach bag back by refusing to go into the jungle without shoes on and then complained so much about the possibility of getting sunburned that one of the men had finally given her his shirt just to shut her up.

  Whatever happened next, she wanted them to be convinced she wouldn't try to escape. It amazed her how easily most people bought her act. Did they not consider it possible that all that whining was just for show?

  Apparently not, Lauren thought as she snuck a look over at Jake, who had his eyes closed and appeared to be asleep. The warm heat of the tropical sun peeking out between heavy jungle foliage was certainly conducive to napping, but Lauren didn't know how he could sleep when they were in danger. He should be formulating an escape plan, not napping. What kind of a spy was he? Lauren stifled a yawn and forced herself to sit up straight. She had to pay attention, to memorize the route the rebels were taking so she could lead them out once they escaped.

  Their journey took several hours, the jeep winding its way up a narrow muddy mountainside. They passed the occasional vehicle, each one full of men dressed in camouflage gear with machine guns at their sides who nodded without smiling to the thugs who had kidnapped Lauren and Jake. The men didn't talk much, communicating more in a series of grunts and nods than anything else.

  Typical, Lauren thought. She was certain if she asked what they were thinking, they'd all say, "Nothing"… and mean it.

  In her mind, she pictured the satellite photos she'd been provided with before coming on this mission—photos that clearly showed this path through these mountains. She had been sent here because recent photos showed a marked increase in traffic along this road. The CIA didn't have clear pictures of the rebel camp itself, the jungle was too good at hiding Rafael Santos's headquarters. But they were able to estimate where Santos had set up camp just by tracking traffic patterns on the roads leading into the jungle.

  On her first day here, Lauren had hired a local helicopter pilot to take her up and give her an overview of the island's layout. On her second day, she went up again on a group tour of the local waterfalls as an excuse to get access to this specific region. She figured that if anyone became suspicious of her activities, she could say she was just helping to scout locations for the photo shoot. But even as recently as a few days ago, there had been little traffic on this road. Unlike today, she hadn't seen even one vehicle as they'd flown to Nuevo Rios, a popular tourist destination with stunning waterfalls and clear lakes where bathers could escape the jungle heat.

  It was obvious that things had changed in the last few days, since the rebels weren't even trying to stay out of sight. Lauren just hoped she and Jake could figure out when the rebels planned to attack so they could communicate the details to Tomas Santos. Should be easy. All they had to do was to stay alive long enough to make their escape.

  Lauren took a sip of the bottled water she'd brought along and then glanced over at Jake to see if he was awake and would like a drink. He still had his eyes closed, so she put the cap back on the bottle and tucked it back into her bag, just as they skidded around a corner and the driver slammed the vehicle to a stop.

  Lauren blinked at the scene in front of her. From around the corner, she hadn't heard anything—not the buzz of voices or the sound of truck engines or anything. When the driver turned off the jeep's engine, she realized that part of what was muffling the sound of the rebel camp was the constant roar of a not-so-distant waterfall. She looked around and couldn't see anything but the dense jungle surrounding them, but the waterfall had to be near.

  "Get out," the man in the passenger seat ordered, turning around to wave a machine gun under Jake's nose.

  Jake started as if he'd been jerked awake. He rolled his shoulders back and stretched his arms before standing up and jumping out of the jeep. The man sitting between Jake and Lauren got up next, his heavy boots hitting the packed dirt with a thud. He held his hand out to indicate that he wanted his shirt back, so Lauren obliged, being careful not to flash the men as she slipped the T-shirt over her head. Then she gingerly stepped over to the side of the vehicle and looked down at the ground as if afraid she'd bruise her tender feet if she had to jump all that way by herself. Jake noticed her hesitation and stepped forward to help her, but the man in the passenger seat stopped him with a pointed thrust of his gun in the direction of Jake's gut. Lauren clambered awkwardly out of the vehicle, taking care not to land on anything that might puncture the soles of her thin sandals.

  She took a deep breath. Okay, here was the part where she was gang-raped while the thugs held Jake's arms and forced him to watch. Funny, she hadn't really been scared up till now. She wasn't sure why—maybe because she'd felt that their affiliation with the CIA would keep them from being harmed. After all, the rebels had to know that the CIA would retaliate if they killed one of their agents.

  But
did they even know she and Jake were CIA? What if they had come for Jake for an entirely different reason?

  And if there were no witnesses to their kidnapping, how would the Agency even know who to retaliate against?

  Lauren swallowed. Hard. Then she forced herself to turn around, surprised to find a tall, handsome man striding toward them. Like the men around him, he wore a dark green T-shirt tucked into a pair of jungle camouflage pants that were, in turn, tucked into a pair of heavy black boots. His skin was the color of an expensive lambskin coat. His hair and eyes were dark brown, his features strong, his face smooth and unlined.

  She knew from the file she'd studied earlier that this was none other than the rebel leader himself, Rafael Santos.

  "Well, what do we have here?" Santos asked, looking at Lauren with amusement.

  "You've obviously been in this jungle way too long. I'm a woman," Lauren said, raising her eyebrows and forcing herself to project an air of bravado she didn't feel.

  Santos laughed and eyed her appreciatively. "I've not been out here that long. What is she doing here?" This last was addressed to the man in the passenger seat, who was apparently the highest-ranking goon in the bunch.

  The rebel shrugged. "She was with Haven. I didn't think you wanted witnesses."

  "Ah. Well, this is certainly a welcome surprise. You men take Haven over to the west compound. You know what to do with him." Santos didn't even spare Jake a glance as he reached out to take Lauren's arm. "My name is Rafael Santos, and I'd be delighted if you'd dine with me this evening. I apologize for the crude state of my camp, but I can at least offer you a warm bath and some clothes."

  Lauren slid a look at Jake as she walked past, hoping her eyes conveyed the message she knew she couldn't voice: Don't worry, Jake. I'll save you.

  Rafael Santos was in high spirits as he entered his tent two hours later and found his brother Emilio pacing the floor, waiting for him. He believed that God had sent the beautiful American girl to him as a sign that he was destined to succeed in his mission to lead the people of Isla Suspiro to freedom and wealth. Wasn't that what America symbolized? And to have this woman dropped in his lap such a short time before he was to reclaim his birthright? Yes, surely she had been sent from heaven to show him that his mission was blessed.

  "Glad to see that one of us is in a good mood," Emilio grumbled, flopping his thin frame down onto a heavy wooden chair.

  Briefly, Rafael considered telling his brother about the woman, but he changed his mind as he quickly pondered what Emilio's reaction might be. Emilio trusted no one. Most likely, he'd tell Rafael to have his fun with the girl and then kill her, but Rafael had no intention of so carelessly tossing away God's gift.

  No. Better to keep this secret to himself for now.

  "Our plans are proceeding according to schedule," he said instead, reaching out to take a tumbler from off the top of a bookshelf. He poured two fingers of rum into the glass and added several ice cubes from a small portable freezer before handing the glass to his brother. He made a similar drink for himself and pulled out a chair to sit down when he noticed several Isla Suspiro Rum boxes stacked near the door of his tent.

  "Some of the new shipment?" he asked, nodding toward the boxes.

  Emilio grunted. "Yes. And the last of the funds you'll need before Sunday."

  "Ah. Excellent," Rafael said. This was indeed a good day.

  "Did you capture the American agent?"

  "Of course," Rafael answered, taking a sip of rum and letting the smooth liquid roll around on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. Isla Suspiro rum was some of the finest on the market. Too bad the rum itself didn't provide enough profits to make anyone rich. If it had, this split between Rafael and his oldest brother might have been unnecessary. But, who knew? It still might have come to this. He and Tomas might have the same goals, but they would never agree on how to achieve them.

  Tomas was already losing favor with the people, after only two years in power. If he were allowed to remain as president, someone—someone other than Rafael, who had the people's best interests at heart—might overthrow the government and bring more pain to the nation. As Emilio constantly reminded him, Rafael was the only one who could ensure that did not happen.

  "I will hold the American until our mission on Sunday is complete," Rafael said.

  "And then what?" Emilio asked. "You can't just let him go. The CIA will not look favorably upon someone who has kidnapped one of their agents."

  Rafael frowned and set his tumbler down on the table with a loud thunk. "Would you have me release him now? I can't take the risk that he'll interfere with my plans once he's free."

  Emilio Santos closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he counted to ten. His brother was such a fool. "No," he said after he'd calmed his temper. "You must kill him and have your men bring his body to me. I will make it appear as if Tomas had him assassinated. This will help turn the Americans to your favor when the time is right."

  Rafael's eyes narrowed. "I can't do that. What if the CIA discovers that I was the one responsible for their agent's death?"

  Emilio clutched his glass with both hands and prayed for patience. Two days, he promised himself. In two days, Tomas and Rafael would be dead and he would be in power, and this would all have been worth it. "Pick someone expendable to do the job and have him deliver the body to me. I will take care of seeing that the murder cannot be linked to you. Or are you willing to risk the welfare of Isla Suspiro's people by allowing this spy to stop you?"

  Rafael seemed to ponder the question for a long time before I raising his gaze from his drink. He looked troubled, sudden lines appearing around his eyes that had not been there a moment before. "I suppose," he said, raising his glass to his lips once more, "in war, one must be prepared to carry out reprehensible tasks to ensure the greater good." He took a sip of his drink and paused for a moment, then brought his gaze back to Emilio's. "I will send my man, Hector, to you with the body of the American. It will be done."

  * * *

  CH@%!*R 4

  Lauren gasped with surprise when the flap of the tent she'd been shown to was suddenly jerked aside. A large man with a head like a steel toaster stepped inside and tersely said, "Come."

  She'd had over two hours to fret, pace, and primp and was glad to get out of there. At one point, she'd tried going outside, but was stopped by one of the two heavily armed guards stationed at her tent. The tent was near the middle of the camp, with men walking all around, so she couldn't attempt an escape out the back until it quieted down. Or until the sun set and her disappearance wouldn't be quite so noticeable. In the meantime, she'd been left alone to worry.

  How badly had Jake been hurt? What did the rebels want from him? Would they release him once they had the information they wanted, or did they plan to kill him?

  She'd paced the tent, searching for something to use as a weapon, but hadn't found anything. One of the rebels had brought her a pair of loose white cotton pants and a matching tank top. She was glad to have something to put on over her skimpy bathing suit, but there was no way she could escape unnoticed wearing white.

  Which may have been exactly why this outfit had been chosen for her.

  She had asked for a sturdier pair of shoes than the strappy sandals she'd tucked into her beach bag that morning, but her request had been ignored. Instead, the rebel who had delivered the clothes brought her a bucket of warm water, a washcloth, some soap, and a hairbrush. Her request for a mirror had been met with the same stony silence and dark look that she'd gotten when she'd asked for better shoes.

  So much for befriending the enemy.

  It had taken her ten minutes to get cleaned up. The rest of the time she'd spent pacing the dirt floor of the tent, trying to eavesdrop on the men outside and sitting on the lone cot studying her Secret Agent's Handbook for ideas of how to free Jake. The Handbook was, written in special ink. To the casual observer, it looked like nothing more than a popular novel. But when viewed through th
e secret lens hidden in an ordinary-looking bookmark, it became a textbook filled with tips about everything from fending off an alligator attack and communicating with another agent in a prison camp to surviving a trip down a waterfall and seducing the leader of a band of guerillas. Lauren paid particular attention to that last one, since she figured she might need to use those skills later in the evening.

  By the time Santos's thug came for her, she was ready to start digging her way out of the camp with her bare hands—and to hell with the manicure she'd gotten yesterday. She wanted to be doing something, not just sitting here waiting. This was her first real op since graduating from the Agency's accelerated training program the month before, and she wanted to put the skills she'd learned, both during training and by nearly memorizing every word of her Secret Agent's Handbook, to use. For the first time in her life, she had the chance to make a real difference in the world. Now if only an opportunity would present itself so she could make her escape and get started.

  In the meantime, she had no choice but to follow Santos's man across the camp, ignoring the way her progress was watched by the rebels. It was difficult not to feel somewhat like a piece of rare beef being dragged on a string through a pit of hungry lions. She scooted closer to the man who had come for her, as if he might protect her if one of the lions suddenly swiped out a paw to grab her. The training she'd gone through had made her fairly confident in her own abilities to protect herself, but there was no way she could single-handedly take on a platoon of determined men.

  When the rebel stopped in front of another, larger tent and rapped on a wooden support post, Lauren couldn't hold back a shiver. Then she straightened her shoulders and told herself to start acting like a real agent. If Santos had planned to throw her to his men, he would have done it already.

  There was a muffled "Come in" from inside the tent and Toaster Head stepped aside to let her pass. Lauren raised her chin and breezed past the man, determined to behave as if this sort of thing happened to her every day.